sometimes she forgets.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,"

-William Shakespeare. As you like it.



behind the eyes, behind the smile. dig deep.
dig through the laughter.
dig through the wit.
dig deep.
through layers and layers of valiant attempts to repair.
imagine you're able to dig through them all.
what do you see?
pain? hurt? long-repressed tears?
ill tell you what you wont find,
if you can dig that deep.
you wont find eyes. you wont find smiles.
you wont find laughter. you wont find wit.
if anything, you'll find a pseudo reality of joy, clung to tightly by its owner.

why?

why hide?

no one's counting.

this isnt a game.

imagine with me a scenario.
a typical interaction in the hall on the way to somewhere
you dont want to go:
"Hi, how are you?"
"Good, you?"
"Good."
"Great, see you later."

what if the answer was, "not good. not good at all. im barely hanging in there."
what if i told you those 11 words are most frequently abbreviated to "Good."

would you still ask how they are doing?
do you still care?

why is it that we are so blessed?
blessed with a mind to formulate thoughts.
blessed with a mouth to articulate thoughts.

why does our formulating and articulating result in cliche?
im no mathematician, but those two dont add up.

what are we afraid of them seeing?
a real person?
because last i checked,
most of us are of the more real variety of human.

so what if they know.
so what if they see us cry.
so what if we happen to tell them why it hurts.

why is the easiest costume for pain to put on... a hearty laugh?

im about to say something shocking.

Christians hurt too.

we may have the joy of the Lord,
but the ocean we swim in is infested with sorrow.

clear the beach.
tell all your friends.
act 1 has ended.
the players are back stage putting on the next costume.

warming up their voices. getting into character.

but enter center stage with me.

she's beautiful. her tiara sparkles. her lines are flawless; thoroughly rehearsed.
but dig beneath the gown, deeper than the rib cage

her heart.
and it doesnt sparkle quite like the tiara does.

take her off stage. tell her the shows over.
sometimes she forgets.
gently take the tiara out of her hand.

tell her she can stop hiding now.

no ones counting.